Helllo, Denver

Hello anyone who still actually reads this! I'm sorry for not posting in forever and a day. I would like to say "I've been busy," but in reality, I've been lazy and caught up in myself. I feel like a lot yet little has happened or changed since I last posted, but things certainly have changed. I want to try and tell you about my life since my prior post... So, my first semester back at Lee was...okay. Like I said before, I was having a hard time with not having new friends and not knowing what I wanted to do. Well, that was a little more than a hard time apparently. In my Foundations of Western Culture class, we were assigned to read "The Iliad" and I did not read "The Iliad" because I had a hard time focusing and understanding the language...that is until a Friday when I realized "Oh....I have a test over this next week." I then decided to take it upon myself to read the entire Iliad in two days. Bad. Choice. I did nothing but read. I started getting dizzy, having headaches, shortness of breath, and my heart would beat really fast. That Sunday, I woke up at like 4 in the morning with chest pain and my breathing was off, so I texted my dad (who I knew would be awake), and told him what was going on and what to do. He advised me to go to the health clinic when it opened (if I didn't think the ER was necessary), so I did. They told me it was anxiety and if it happened again or persisted to go to the ER, which I ended up doing later that night. They also told me that it was anxiety (after making a snarky, rude comment about eating that ticked me off). Later, I looked up anxiety and anxiety attacks, and as it turned out, I was experiencing my first REAL (I faked one my sophomore year to get out of golfing an 18-hole golf tournament) anxiety attack. Apparently my weekend with "The Iliad" provoked a full on panic attack, which ended up lasting about two weeks on and off. Frickin' Homer. I researched anxiety more, gave up/tried to give up caffeine, and there was that. I had BAD anxiety. My new found anxiety was completely new to me and I didn't know how to deal with it. On top of that, I was in a biology class that made me want to throw and break things, the rest of my classes were slightly challenging (but I enjoyed them), and I was just stressed. I interviewed for a group on campus called S.W.A.T. (Students With A Testimony), and I LOVED the people and the ministry in itself (essentially, they lead small groups on weekend retreats for kids from 6th-12th grade). I made it into the group, and I was so stoked for my new friends and the opportunity. The same week as the interviews, I went to talk with an academic advisor in the business program, told him what I kind of wanted to do with my life, and asked if that program would work for my goals, and he said it would be perfect for it. The next day, we had something called "Celebration" to celebrate all of the accomplishments and donors and people and what not of Lee, and all of the students were required to go listen to one out of a ton of speeches being given by people that Lee brought into speak. I went to a speech from this dude who opened a coffee shop and travels around the world to source the beans. I don't know if I ever wrote about the idea I had last year of a career, but one thing I had toyed around with was opening a coffee shop (like Starbucks, or River Road for those in the 740), travel to 3rd world countries, make it a mission field for Christ, source the beans there, and then travel back to the states and sell the coffee in the shop and tell the stories of the people. Hearing that talk confirmed it. I had to do my coffee shop thang. I declared my major as Business Administration with an emphasis in International Business as soon as I could and I was so excited for my life and all of the opportunities and blessings God was giving me...and then I got a call from mom... The same day as the Celebration, I received a very frantic phone call from my mother, who I could tell was balling her eyes out. All she said was "Your dad called the health clinic, and he told me what you weigh. We're coming to get you and you're going to treatment." My heart stopped. I was devastated. I spent the next two hours talking to my mom and my dad on the phone, convincing them that I was okay. My parents, being the loving yet enabling people they are (sorry, but you know that it's true), let me stay on the condition that I would eat and go to the health clinic every week for weigh-ins. Of course, I agreed to it but didn't follow through. Ah yes, the eating thing...well, that didn't happen. I would eat, but VERY little and nothing of substantial caloric count. There was a day where I decided to just say "eff it" and I decided to feed my body what it wanted and just eat what I wanted; that ended quickly The only thing that I would consume before noon was coffee, vegetables for lunch, and then something like cereal and soy milk or vegetables and a veggie burger for dinner, copious amounts of diet soda to satisfy my hunger through the night, and then always something before bed. Carbohydrates from grains became my biggest fear, calories became the enemy, and I continued to spiral. I experienced my first "binge" on Halloween day after I hadn't eaten anything but carrots all day. I know it was a binge because I completely lost control and was almost out of my body yet shoving fistful after fistful of Fritos, candy corn, and other candies into my mouth with no real reason to. As I was doing it, I would tell myself "I'm just feeding myself what my body wanted," but it soon became "You're so stupid," "guilty," "how could you have done that?", "fat", "moron," etc. I hated myself. I told my friends that it was happening and asked for them to pray for me. I called my dad on the verge of tears. I told myself to restrict and make up for it the next 3 days, but after those 3 days were over, the guilt remained and I continued restricting the best I could. I went to my best friend/roommate's house for Thanksgiving and ate little to nothing. It was the strangest and "best" Thanksgiving of my life because they didn't have a normal Thanksgiving meal, so I got away with eating vegetables for dinner. My eating disorder behaviors had gotten worse and they were bad while I was on campus. I ordered skim milk and sugar free syrups in my coffee specialty drinks, I HAD to watch them make it to ensure that it was made in the right way and if not it had to be re-made, I had to customize all of my foods to make them have the least calories possible, and the list goes on. My eating disorder had taken over, and I didn't care. I didn't care that I was destroying myself. I didn't care that I was light-years away from God (but He was always right besides me). I didn't care that, from hundreds of miles away, I was destroying my family. I didn't care that my speech was beginning to slur, I wanted to sleep all of the time, my feet and hands fell asleep very easily, my ears started to ache in a way that they never had before, and I was freezing allllllllllllll of the time. My hair never fell out, though, so there's a plus. When exam time came around, I came to a point where I just didn't care and I wanted to go home. I wanted the stress of eating and spending money and life to be over, so I didn't care at all what my grades were. I ended up getting 3 A's, a B-, and a C (in biology, which I was NOT expecting), so I guess I did well despite my deteriorating self. 3 of my absolute, best of the best ever best friends came home took a little road trip to Ohio with me to spend a few days exploring my fatherland. It was so much fun. When they left, I was so upset because I wanted to be back at Lee with them and not at home. I LOVE my friends so much! We grew so super close over the semester. We made plans to get a house together next year, plans for our weddings, and our lives were in the palms of our hands and we could be together through all of it. The rest of my break was okay. I didn't do much because I didn't work, but I made plans, which stressed me out to the EXTREME. I had to make sure that I did all of the things that I planned to do with my friends from back home. A lot of what I planned centered around food and eating, so I would have to plan my days around that which added stress. If I went out for coffee with a friend in the morning and got a muffin, I'd have to make sure I could get around having other grain-type carbs the rest of the day; stuff like that. I slept with my mom the entire time (despite Ringo [my dog] trying to guard the bed from me) because my room was the coldest room in the house. Even then, my mom got to a point where she could barely look at me because she couldn't stand the sight of what I was doing to myself. We couldn't have a conversation where I didn't get mad and yell at her for bothering me about my eating stuff, or the conversation just feeling forced and unnatural. I eventually agreed to go see my old physician, which never happened...but this time for a different reason than the usual "I don't want to go to the doctor" bit... On New Years Eve, I felt a lot of pressure in my chest, my breathing was really off and weird, and I felt so weak. I told my dad, and he asked if I wanted to go to the hospital, which I said "not right now" to. The next day, we went to see "The Hobbit" (our tradition; though I don't know what we'll do now that the saga has ended...) and we spent the night at home. Around 8, one of my best friends was on his way over when I told him that I felt sick and to go home. I knew it was coming, so I wanted to get it over with ASAP so I could have a chance of making it back to school on time: I asked to go to the hospital. I was admitted on New Years Day and spent 10 days in there. The moment I was admitted, I knew going back to school wasn't an option. If it was, my parents were the biggest morons on the face of the earth. I ultimately decided to admit myself (since I'm 19), but the only reason that I did was because my parents told me to; I would have been completely fine with going home, though the thought of a break from all of my eating disorder stress did sound appealing. I spent my first 3 or 4 days in the hospital feeling guilty, ashamed, and stupid for admitting myself: I could have gone back to school and my life would have been normal. On top of that, they made me either eat meat or take Ensure because I had eaten meat last year; I was hungry so I ate the stinkin' animal flesh...gross. The discussions of treatment centers followed, and the calls to places ranging from Florida, to Indiana, to Oklahoma began. I began to be okay with the thought of treatment. I started to look at schools online so I wouldn't fall terribly behind, and I might even be starting class this coming Monday (that's still up in the air). I asked if I could be discharged before breakfast when I was told my release date so dad and I could go to one of my breakfast places in the C-Bus, which they agreed to! Unfortunately, after being discharged on Sunday morning at 7:30 a.m., dad and I went to Tasi, where I got my usual (Greek yogurt with granola, fruit, and honey) despite really wanting a pancake. As I watched the chef prepare my dish, pouring on calories on top of calories of honey, I instantly regretted my choice. As I ate it, I thought of how stupid I was for ordering something higher in calories and price because I was scared of the grain-carbs in the pancake. Stupid. Just stupid. The next two days were rough because there was nothing but arguing over me not eating, my parents having the biggest fight I've ever heard them have over me, and just a bunch of stupid stuff that I caused. Oh yeah, I ate and did perfectly fine in the hospital, but eating at home, I realized, is hard for me/I just can't do it. On Monday, after 300 phone calls and a lot of anxiety, I booked a plane ticket to Denver, Colorado to go to treatment (which is where we had decided that I would be going to treatment, btw.) So, here I am: at the Eating Recovery Center in Denver, Colorado. It's Saturday and virtually nothing happens on weekends. I've been doing very well. When I'm in treatment, I have no problem eating (it's home where the challenge lies), and I've already moved to what they consider to be a level two...in only 4 days! WOO! I've been my real happy and positive self, though on Wednesday I thought about how I would soon be gaining weight and my clothes would start to get tight, so that will be telling once it really begins to happen. The food here is decent; not as good as Rosewood, but decent. I haven't really slept since getting here (or for quite some time leading up to it). I still have rolly veins that make it difficult to draw blood...nothing very new. I've started reading two devotion books a day, books about spirituality and God, and talking to my peers about God...why does it take something as devastating as my life getting rocked off the wagon wheel with Darius Rucker (I've also started to enjoy country music...I don't know what's happening to me), dropping out of school (I dropped out of Lee...again), going to treatment, and essentially having no control of my life to draw me into seeking God? I guess that's the way most humans work. Right now, I feel happy and content. I'm okay with being here because it's what my family wants. I'm okay with leaving Lee because I realized the only reason I was there was for my friends (which isn't the best reason to drop so much cash on a school). I'm okay with where I am in life. However, I'm terrified of gaining weight because no one really knows what my "normal weight is"...I've never had one. I'm terrified because I remember what I looked like and how massive I felt last year when I got out of treatment and I don't want to go back to that. I'm terrified that my treatment team is going to make me bigger than I should/want to be. The funny thing is, I'm not afraid of my eating disorder. I certainly don't want it, but I'm not afraid of it like I am gaining weight. If you ask me if I want to get better, I'll tell you the honest truth: no. I really don't want to get better. There is too much safety and certainty in my eating disorder that I'm not ready to give up. However, I'm going to get better for my family because I can't stand the sight of seeing my little brother cry his eyes out because he doesn't think I'm going to wake up in the morning to tell him about a poop I took. My family is my inspiration. God is my inspiration. I guess this is just one of those things where I'm going to cast my anxieties upon the Lord, and try and rest knowing that I'm made in His perfect image. Life doesn't suck yet, but when it does, I hope that I can turn to God and really rely on him versus relying on starving myself for peace.

I Did It!...And Why Does Adam Levine Have Blond Hair?

First off, I'm watching "The Voice" and wondering...why the devil does Adam Levine have blond hair? Blond hair doesn't work on Adam Levine. Anyway, I FINISHED INTENSIVE OUTPATIENT TREATMENT (IOP)! I did it! I did it! I did it! AND I finished two weeks early! Who would have guessed I would finish that early, yet I stayed in PHP so late? Kind of funny, really. Regardless, I AM DONE WITH PROLONGED TREATMENT! Now, I'm outpatient level..HOLLAAAAAAAA! That means I'll go up to Children's once a week or every two or three weeks (I'll find out tomorrow at my appointment how much they want to see me). I'm so excited! The only thing that sucks, though, is that I'm still weight restoring which I don't understand. Like, I feel great, my vitals are good, my thoughts are fine, and everyone tells me I look good, so I really don't get why they want me to continue to gain. I asked my therapist about it, and she said I'm only in the 25% of my weight range based on the normal weight range and BMI of people my age and height, which basically means I'm on the small end of the spectrum when it comes to other people with my body type. That was very reassuring. A couple days before that, though, I had a tough moment that put me in a funk for a couple of days. I went to the store with my mom and tried on a size of jeans that I would usually fit it, and they wouldn't go past my butt. It really made me upset about still having to gain weight. I grieved over it because I felt like I had worked so hard for so many years to get to that small size (mind you, by "work" I mean starving myself and exercising to the point of exhaustion), and it just sucked to have to go up. On top of that, I feel like my body is disproportionate because my legs are bigger than my top half. After a day or so of wallowing in bad body image, I bucked up and got over it. That just goes to prove that even when God delivers someone from something, there can still be some pushback.

With that said, I do believe that God has delivered me from my eating disorder. While I still have the fear of being fat (which has been with me throughout my life because I was overweight as a kid), it doesn't hinder me from eating and I'm not afraid of food. Praise God: I ate cake 5 times in one week. Cake is good. I actually eat food that I've been so afraid of eating for years and enjoy it without feeling guilty. I'm so excited about everything going on! One of the biggest things I'm excited about is being able to eat whatever I want without following a meal plan, and without restricting or compensating. I'm excited to start working out to be in shape and fit (I am so out of shape, it's not even a laughing matter). I want to be able to run because I want to feel strong and the sense of freedom I imagine runners feel. Well, I always imagine myself running through a forest in Forks, Washington in a dress like a vampire from "Twilight", and that seems pretty great. I'm just so excited about everything my body will let me do when it's nourished and healthy, but I have to wait until the doctors tell me I'm allowed to do all of that, which is kind of hard since I have no patience at all. I've also really been being affected by negativity, criticism, and judgement. I've been surrounded recently by people who judge other people or say mean things about them, and that makes me really upset. I hate to say it, but I don't step up to defend those people because I'm afraid of confrontation and basically a pansy because I just want everyone to like me. That's something I need to work on. I've also been getting really fired up about when people talk about food, and the matter of "healthy." I really hate society and it's message of "health." One of the dieticians at treatment said something very thought provoking: "It'll be interesting to see how in ten years the obesity rate goes down, but the rate of eating disorders goes up." It's so true! The media is constantly pushing no fat, low carb, whole wheat, "healthy" everything, and as it turns out, that's not right. It's very frustrating when you've learned the truth about something, but everyone else around you is taught something completely different. They've already got what they believe programmed into their brain, so there's practically no way to turn it around. I'm not saying that you shouldn't have a "healthy" diet, but that doesn't mean you should restrict yourself from food that you like that may not be society's current view of "health." Ugh, why is it like this? Why? And for that matter, why does society have to push this image of muscular, fit, skinny, "I need to workout two hours a day and do detox cleansing drinks" type of people? So frustrating! Okay, I'm done venting. When I was in PHP, mom and I started going out to breakfast every Wednesday, and we discovered my two new favorite restaurants: Tasi and The Angry Baker, two places in Columbus. SO divine. LOOOOVEEE it. Tasi makes an incredible version of my favorite food, greek yogurt and granola, while the Angry Baker makes their own rendition of it called "Three Bear Porridge." I could live off of those two dishes. They have other good food, but those are my faves fo sho. I also really love this place in town called Carpe Diem. They make meal replacement/protein shakes, which are also heavenly. I could live on these three foods. I mention all of this because I wanted to try these places for the past few years but never did because I was too afraid to. I say this because I rejoice whenever I get to go to these places because I actually enjoy the food and leave without feeling guilty. This is all because I did treatment, which has blessed me in so many ways. Not only did it save my life, but I met incredible people I'm glad to call my friends, an incredible and inspirational woman as my therapist who was the best I've ever had, and by the power of God, I have been delivered from my eating disorder. While I'm sure that I'll always have that fear of being fat, I don't think about or want to not eat to make sure it doesn't happen. I want to live my life free of fear of food. There are too many things in my life that I have to be excited about: my favorite restaurants, school starting in a little more than a month, being fit and strong, and being closer to the Lord. I praise God because this is all because of Him. Thank you, God. Now if only you could work with Adam Levine's hair, that would be fantastic because I do not know what is going on with that...